


Second Skin

by ariel_manto



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/F, Gen, Social Anxiety, honestly I'm probably just projecting my own insecurities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel_manto/pseuds/ariel_manto
Summary: There is a fine line between controlling something and having it control you.
Relationships: (suggested), Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	Second Skin

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - PLEASE PAY HEED  
> I've been very unsure about posting this for a very long time, and finally decided to do so, but please pay attention to tags, because this is definitely a potentially triggering piece, and if you're not sure if you're in a safe place to read it, please refrain from doing so. Yes, even if we're friends and you feel obliged. You're not.   
> If you have anything to say that you'd rather weren't in a publicly visible comment, feel free to message me on tumblr at merricatsgarden, like, if something really bothers you about it or you have a question. Be reasonable though, I cry easily.
> 
> (also, I wrote this while half asleep, on a night train, two years ago. If you're looking for logic and plot, this is not the place to go)

It’s not vanity that spurs her rituals.

The time spent in front of the mirror, making sure she presents as she ought to. That she does not in any way appear as a person who indulges, someone prone to excess. 

Hair scraped back, clothes bare of any adornment, not intended to create any illusions of beauty, or indeed anything outside of the essentials.

There is always the threat of being too much.

Restraint and restriction set her apart; a barrier that would sometimes seem so thick, her surroundings would blur. There was comfort in that.

Pippa is different. It doesn’t repulse her, seeing Pippa indulge, doesn’t even seem like indulgence – just a part of her, carefree, able to find pleasure in anything. And not deny herself access to it.

It serves as a constant reminder of the barrier – how she could never hope to be a part of the world that Pippa seems to inhabit, not even for a short time. 

And yet, Pippa tries, she coaxes without pushing, lets her know that she’s safe, that she’s allowed to enjoy things. Food. Company.

Afterwards, the feeling lingers for a moment, before the shame overwhelms her. 

Who is she to believe herself on par with Pippa – what makes her think that she can enjoy things the way Pippa can. After all, her own company can hardly have provided the same pleasure...

So she tries her best to atone, fingers scratching at the back of her throat until it’s raw, and every last trace of her stupid – stupid – indulgence is purged.

Later, she will rely on potions for the same effect; preferring to stay within that realm which she knows so well, even for this. 

It is not pretty. She wasn’t made for pretty. 

Long fingers quickly finding and grazing the checkpoints – collarbones, ribs, hip bones. 

She only stops to notice that her belt is rather loose, triggering a brief moment of panic – she hadn’t been planning on going any further? Is this still control?

But of course, it must be. She is doing everything right. This is what she knows. This is what she is. Quickly, with barely a flick of her wrist, the belt has been shrunk and now sits as tightly as ever. There. The difference is imperceptible. Surely.

-

There is a small voice at the back of her head, asking rather pointedly what sort of a role model she is for her students. She shuts it off. She has had a lot of practice, shutting things off.


End file.
